


Ἁρμονία

by the_sky_is_forever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Aphrodite - Freeform, First Kiss, Greek God Enjolras, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prayer, Trans Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 02:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14071239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sky_is_forever/pseuds/the_sky_is_forever
Summary: Grantaire prays to Aphrodite every day to stop loving Enjolras.Courfeyrac bursts out laughing hysterically. “Wait, wait, let me get this straight. You’re praying toAphroditeto get overEnjolras?”





	Ἁρμονία

 

His knees are starting to ache, sore from the stone beneath him, but he presses his forehead harder against the alter and keeps whispering the prayer to Aphrodite, begging her to hear him, begging her to _help_ him for once. He begged Aphrodite Ourania every day in her temple to take away his love, to help him stop feeling everything so strongly.

He knows it’s unlikely she’ll take his love from him. He knows that even unreciprocated love is worship to her, but he just needs it to stop hurting all the damn time.

Eventually he kisses her alter and whispers, “All the love I have to offer him is yours, Aphrodite Ourania.” He squeezes his eyes tighter shut, and then opens them and drags himself to his feet, joints stiff.

He meets the eyes of a sympathetic priestess, and she lightly steps towards him. “The Lady of Cythera will give you all you need,” the priestess promises him, and kisses his forehead. She presses a metal pin, a small dove, into his hand. “Wear this token. Boldly profess your worship of the goddess Aphrodite; it might endear you to her.”

As Grantaire makes his way to the exit, heart heavy with the knowledge that he will continue to adore Enjolras, one of the temple prostitutes catches his arm.

“Not tonight,” he tells her.

She laughs, beautifully, and says, “That’s not why I stopped you.” She lifts his clenched fist to her mouth and kisses it. “Aphrodite Pandemos says to wear the token.”

He laughs out loud, because of course she hears him. Of course she knows that he wasn’t going to wear the damn thing. She must hear all his prayers; she must hear everything he begs her for.

“Sure,” he tells the prostitute, helplessly. “Why the fuck not?” He kisses the prostitute on the forehead and says, “Keep me in your prayers, will you? Ask for this all to end.”

As he pulls away, she says quickly, “Love is never a mistake.”

He looks at her fondly. “If you knew him…”

Her forehead creases with a frown. “If he’s not worthy –”

“Oh, he’s worthy,” he interrupts her. “I know that much.”

As he leaves the temple, he pins the dove to the lapel of his jacket.

 

He tries to go about his week without thinking too much of the dove on his jacket, but people keep commenting on it. He dreads seeing Les Amis.

As he makes his weekly commute to the bar where they meet, his hand keeps jumping up to play with the dove, twisting the metal around and around nervously.

It’s not such a big deal, lots of people daily wear tokens of the gods they worship: Courfeyrac always wears the token of Euthymia; Jehan, the token of Apollo, and of Antheia during the spring; Joly wears the tokens of Asclepius, Epione, and Hygieia, constantly praying to them for good health, the ease of pain, and the development of modern medicine.

Grantaire never wears a token. Nor does Feuilly (though everyone knows he prays to Hestia daily). Enjolras has never been seen near a temple, let alone wearing the token of a God, and Combeferre keeps his beliefs to himself.

The whole group are fairly evenly split between open, devout worshipers, and non-believers (or at least silent believers).  

Grantaire has thus far always fallen on the side of the silent believers, and he’s certain most of the group think he doesn’t believe at all. He’s not looking forward to them realising he worships Aphrodite. Most of them will know why instantly, and the sad understanding on their faces will be intolerable.

Still, if Aphrodite wants open belief in order to help him out, then open belief is what she’ll get.

He forces himself to stop playing with the pin and strides as confidently as he can into the bar.

Joly and Bossuet are sitting together, laughing, sharing adoring looks, and Grantaire heads over, dropping down into a seat beside the pair. Instantly, by being by their sides, hearing their unrestrained laughter, he feels a little better.

It takes them a moment to notice, a minute or two of conversation carrying on as normal, before Bossuet does a double take, and stops mid-sentence.

“Is that a dove?” he asks.

Joly’s head whips round and they stare at the pin on Grantaire’s jacket. “Is that a token from _Aphrodite’s temple_?” they ask, more specifically.

Grantaire groans and rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he admits, reluctantly. “The priestess and the prostitute both said it would endear her to me, so…”

Joly and Bossuet glance at each other, and then Joly says, “We didn’t realise you worshipped.” They gently put their hand on Grantaire’s knee. “Is it… Is it for –?”

“No,” Grantaire interrupts. “I don’t worship her so she’ll make him love me back.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that,” Joly says, softly.

Grantaire can’t meet their eyes. He covers their hand with his own and squeezes, lightly. “Yeah. It’s so I’ll stop loving him.”

Joly nods, and reaches out to hold Bossuet’s hand.

“We love you, R,” Bossuet says.

Grantaire smiles and looks up at his friends. “Love you, too.”

The rest of the group starts to arrive, all loud voices and high energy. Some notice his token, others don’t. Jehan kisses his forehead when he sees it; Éponine raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Enjolras arrives last, with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, and Grantaire stays seated, hoping to avoid having to talk to Enjolras about Aphrodite.

Of course, Enjolras just so happens to need to talk to Joly tonight.

Enjolras comes towards them, smiling and perfect as always. He claps Bossuet on the shoulder in greeting, and offers Grantaire a smile, too, so Grantaire sees the exact moment Enjolras notices the dove pin. He freezes, eyes stuck on the metal bird. His eyes jolt back up to Grantaire’s face.

“You worship Aphrodite?” he asks, abruptly.

Grantaire doesn’t want to answer, really. He also doesn’t know why Enjolras cares who he worships.

“Um, yeah,” he admits. “That okay?”

“You don’t usually wear a token,” Enjolras says, instead of answering the question.

“I’m trying to earn her good graces,” Grantaire tells him, reluctantly.

“Oh,” Enjolras says. “Hoping for someone’s… attention?” He looks awkward about asking, but he asks all the same.

“Ha,” Grantaire laughs, equally awkward. “Not exactly.”

Enjolras hesitates before responding just long enough that Joly has an opening to say, “You wanted to talk to me, Enjolras?” and cut off the conversation, freeing Grantaire to make a quick exit and move tables.

As he collapses into the seat beside Courfeyrac, he lets out a huge breath.

Courfeyrac grins at him. “It’s like you’re _trying_ to make him realise,” she says. “What did you wear that for?”

Grantaire groans and drops his head onto the table. “The priestess implied that if I wear it Aphrodite might like me more and answer my prayers,” he explains. “I just want it to be over, Courf.”

Courfeyrac chokes, and then bursts out laughing hysterically. “Wait, wait, let me get this straight. You’re praying to _Aphrodite_ to get over _Enjolras_?”

Combeferre starts laughing alongside her. “Oh, shit,” they say. “You’re right. That’s hilarious.”

Grantaire lifts his head off the table to look at the two of them, irritated, and the two of them try to stifle their laughter. “Look, I know she’s the Goddess of love and sex and all things requited, but just because she loves love, doesn’t mean she won’t lend a hand and get me out of this. She could transfer my love to someone else!”

Courfeyrac ruffles his hair, fondly. “You _could_ tell him,” she reminds him.

Grantaire gives her an unimpressed look.

Combeferre laughs beside Courfeyrac. “She’s right,” they say. “You could tell him.”

“Obviously, I’m not going to do that,” Grantaire says. “I’m going to keep praying that Aphrodite Ourania will take these feelings away from me, and deal with it in silence in the meantime.”  

“Sounds healthy,” a voice says from behind them, and Grantaire sighs heavily.

“What about me is?” he asks, turning to look at Enjolras and forcing a smile onto his face.

“That’s why you’re wearing the token? You want to stop loving someone?” Enjolras asks, frowning.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. You don’t believe in any of this nonsense,” he says, heavily. “Unfortunately, I do believe in this, and I don’t have any other options since my brain and heart aren’t clever enough to give up on – this.”

“You think I don’t believe?” Enjolras asks, and an unexplainable smirk starts to form on his face.

Grantaire glances at Combeferre and Courfeyrac, hoping they’ll help him out, but both of them are grinning, clearly in on the joke that’s amusing Enjolras.

“Do you?” Grantaire asks.

Enjolras shares a look with his two closest friends, and then says, seriously, “It would be difficult for me not to, considering who my parents are.”

Grantaire goes to roll his eyes and turn away, when the words register. He freezes and blinks in shock, as his mind makes the only conclusion that could be made. He stares up at Enjolras. “Are – Are you a demi-God?” he asks. He supposes it makes sense. It explains Enjolras’ impeccable features, for one.

“Close,” Enjolras says.

Grantaire swallows. He feels dizzy. If he wasn’t worthy of Enjolras’ love before this revelation, he certainly isn’t now.

“Oh,” Grantaire says, faintly. “You’re a God.”

Enjolras smiles, and Grantaire can’t believe he ever thought Enjolras was mortal.

“Who – Who _are_ you? What are you doing here? Who _knows_?” Grantaire asks.

“A few people know. Yourself included, now. I’m trying to find the right time to go public,” Enjolras tells him. “As for who I am… want to try and guess?” he asks, grinning, and finally sitting down in the empty chair to Grantaire’s right.

Grantaire looked at Courfeyrac and Combeferre. “He make you guys guess?” he asks.

Courfeyrac laughs. “Nah, Combeferre and I mostly figured it out and confronted him. It’s sort of a trick question anyway.”

Grantaire frowns in thought, mind running through all the Gods that Enjolras could be.

“Okay,” Grantaire says, eyeing Enjolras up. “You’re not a major God, so not Apollo, as much as you could be. You’re all about changing the status quo, so maybe the God of revolution? Who is that? It’s been so long since Religious Studies. Balance of good and evil is Adrestia. That’s a Goddess though. Unless… Can I rule out Goddesses?” he asks.

Enjolras laughs. “No,” he says. “Don’t rule out Goddesses.”

“You’re a Goddess?” Grantaire asks.

“Well… I’m very much male, but yes, everyone knows me as a Goddess, unfortunately,” Enjolras reveals.

“Oh. Oh, wow. Um. I’m sorry,” Grantaire says. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

Enjolras smiles. “It’s okay. No need to make a big deal. I’m out as trans to quite a few people now.”

“Still,” Grantaire says, seriously. “But back to the more important question. Goddesses that have similar traits to you. Nike? Goddess of victory? It would be great if you were, I’d have more faith in this rebellion if you were.” He gasps. “Something darker? Nemesis? Righteous indignation, you _know_ that could be you. Come on, you’re Nemesis, aren’t you?”

Enjolras laughs. “No, I’m not Nemesis. Or Nike.”

“The virgin Goddess?” Grantaire asks, grinning cheekily.

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “Witty,” he says.

“Okay, not Artemis,” Grantaire concedes. He laughs. “Are you something completely unlike yourself? The Goddess of rest and relaxation, perhaps?”

Enjolras laughs. “No. I’m not Pasithea. Do you give up?” he asks, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Come on, R. You can get this. Think about what Combeferre and I found so funny earlier,” Courfeyrac hints.

Grantaire frowns and thinks back. His hand flies up to touch his token. “You’re a child of Aphrodite,” he says, abruptly.

“Yes,” Enjolras says.

“Oh,” Grantaire says. He looks at Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who look a little more sombre now that he’s in on the joke. He gives them a small smile. He takes a deep breath and looks back at Enjolras. “So. Aphrodite’s children… You must be Harmonia, right?”

Enjolras simply glows when Grantaire says his real name. “Yes!” he exclaims. “Congratulations, you figured it out.”

Grantaire manages a smile at him. “Well,” he says. “I should let you get on with… whatever tonight’s agenda is.”

“Grantaire –” Enjolras starts.

“Put in a good word with your mother, for me, will you?” Grantaire cuts him off, realising a second later that perhaps he should be more respectful now that he knows Enjolras is a God. “Can you – Can you tell her that I understand why she hasn’t helped me, but could you say that you think it’s for the best if she does? I really…” He stops himself.

Enjolras watches him carefully. “All right,” he says. “I’ll tell her.”

Grantaire gets up and starts to move back to Joly and Bossuet’s table.

“Grantaire!” Enjolras – Harmonia – calls after him. “Maybe my – Maybe she hasn’t answered your prayers because it’s not as hopeless as you think.”

Enjolras doesn’t see Courfeyrac wince behind his back, but Grantaire does.

Grantaire laughs. “Right,” he says. “Maybe.”

He turns his back on Enjolras and silently begs Aphrodite to free him from this suffering.

Back with Joly and Bossuet, they raise their eyebrows at him in question. Grantaire shakes his head, helplessly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he tells them, and proceeds to drink himself under the table for the rest of the meeting.

 

Two nights later, back at Aphrodite’s temple, is sitting cross-legged, staring at the altar, no longer praying. He doesn’t know what to say anymore.

His heart is so heavy in his chest, and he’s tired. He’s so tired. He loves Enjolras, and there was a time that it brought him some happiness, but now he’s tired of hoping, tired of over-thinking, tired of adoring someone who… well, who’s just a friend.

A hand brushes his shoulder gently, and he looks up in time to see Enjolras sitting down beside him.

Grantaire starts. “Enjolras,” he blurts out, beyond surprised.

“Hi,” Enjolras says, crossing his legs and settling. “Come here often?” he jokes.

Grantaire laughs, softly, and looks back at the altar. “You could say that,” he replies. “You?”

“No,” Enjolras says. “First time I’ve been actually. I’m a terrible son.”

“Yes, I thought all pretty boys worshiped their mothers,” Grantaire quips.

“I don’t think the worship is supposed to be so literal,” Enjolras replies. “Still praying to be freed from love?”

Grantaire groans. “If I say yes, I’m a fool,” he says.

“No,” Enjolras says, softly. “You’re never a fool.”

“You’ve changed your tune from when we first met,” Grantaire points out.

“I knew much less of humanity back then,” Enjolras replies. “Can I pray with you?”

Grantaire looks at Enjolras for a long moment, and he can feel himself start to fall apart. He drops his head into his hands and bites his lower lip as hard as he can, hoping it will stop himself from tearing up. He gasps in a deep breath to steady himself, and then fixes his eyes back on the altar.

He prays to Aphrodite for strength, silently, and then says, “It’s you.”

Enjolras doesn’t say anything, and Grantaire can’t bring himself to look at him to see his expression.

“You’re the one I’m in love with,” he clarifies. “You’re who I’ve been asking Aphrodite to help me get over. That’s why Courfeyrac and Combeferre found it funny when I told them. That’s why I reacted the way I did when I found out who you are.” He forces himself to look at Enjolras. “Do you get it now?” he asks.

Enjolras looks… amazed.

Grantaire examines the expression, trying to find something negative there, but Enjolras keeps smiling his shocked, pleased smile, and then Enjolras starts to laugh.

It’s a happy, relieved sound, and Grantaire can’t figure out if he’s started to hallucinate or not.

He feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, an automatic response to seeing Enjolras look so delighted. “What?” he asks, fighting it. “What’s funny?”

“I – I asked –” Enjolras chokes out through his laughter, “I asked my mother –” He breaks off again to laugh harder. He shakes himself, clearly trying to get a grip on his hysteria, and he grins brightly at Grantaire. “I asked my mother to help you get over your love,” he tells Grantaire, and then starts laughing again.

Grantaire is smiling helplessly, utterly bemused and completely lost. “So?” Grantaire asks.

“I asked her to help you,” Enjolras explains, doing his best to stop laughing, “so that _I’d_ have a chance with you.”

“Oh,” Grantaire says.

“Grantaire, I’m in love with you, too,” Enjolras says, practically glowing.

“Yeah,” Grantaire says, and starts laughing, too. “I got that.”

The two of them sit in front of Aphrodite’s altar laughing themselves useless, shaking shoulders pressing together. Every time they manage to stop laughing, all it takes is to catch the other’s eye to set them off again.

Eventually Grantaire gets a hold of himself, and he turns to Enjolras hopefully. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“ _Yes_ ,” Enjolras says, emphatically.

Their mouths meet eagerly, and Grantaire wraps an arm around Enjolras’ back to pull him in closer. Enjolras laughs against Grantaire’s mouth, and Grantaire pulls back to look at him, amused. “You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Enjolras says, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his broad smile says it all, really.

“When do I get to meet your mother?” Grantaire asks, cheekily, and Enjolras rolls his eyes and responds with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Ἁρμονία_ is Harmonia in Ancient Greek.  
>  If you've read [Pandemos](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7080220), which you absolutely should have, you'll probably know the epithet Aphrodite Pandemos, but I went with Aphrodite's most common cultic epithet Ourania, which means "heavenly" because you KNOW Grantaire would like that one.
> 
> I hope you liked this! Please leave comments!  
> You can find me @wonderfeuilly on twitter and @caitlynsofia on instagram, goodreads, and letterboxd.  
> If you really liked it please consider [buying me a coffee?](http://ko-fi.com/A831F9U)
> 
>  
> 
>  **gods & goddesses mentioned**  
>  **aphrodite** goddess of love. worshipped by grantaire.  
>  **euthemia** one of the three graces, goddess of joy and mirth. worshipped by courfeyrac.  
>  **apollo** god of light, poetry, truth and more. worshipped by jehan.  
>  **antheia** one of the three graces, goddess of flowers and flowery wreaths. worshipped by jehan during the spring.  
>  **asclepius** god of medicine. worshipped by joly.  
>  **epione** goddess of the soothing of pain. worshipped by joly.  
>  **hygieia** daughter of asclepius and epione, goddess of health, cleanliness, and hygiene. worshipped by joly.  
>  **hesita** goddess of the hearth, the family, the home, and the state. worshipped by feuilly.  
>  **adrestia** goddess of revolt and the balance of good and evil. grantaire's first guess for who enjolras is.  
>  **nike** goddess of victory. grantaire's second guess.  
>  **nemesis** goddess of righteous indignation and retribution. carried out punishment for those who showed hubris (excessive pride). grantaire's third guess. mostly a joke.  
>  **artemis** goddess of the hunt. grantaire's fourth guess. definitely a joke.  
>  **pasithea** goddess of rest and relaxation. grantaire's fifth guess. a joke.  
>  **harmonia** goddess of harmony and concord. enjolras!


End file.
